


Friendly Fire

by inlovewithnight



Category: Brothers & Sisters
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-05
Updated: 2010-06-05
Packaged: 2017-10-09 22:34:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/92319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithnight/pseuds/inlovewithnight





	Friendly Fire

It was all Kitty's fault for buying him the boxed set of _Band of Brothers_.

She liked military history as much as he did (and that was very hot, that his wife got as into the strategy and armaments as the Hollywood boys in uniforms), though he had a slight preference for Korea and Vietnam over World War II. "You already own every Vietnam movie ever made," she said when he made a smartass remark as they settled on the couch with episode one. "And I know better than to get you the M*A*S*H sets because you yell at it for being inaccurate. You're an insufferable pedant, you know that?"

"Takes one to know one," he said, and she punched him in the arm, and they settled in for the first part of what became their routine for a little while, watching an hour of Easy Company every night.

And it wasn't a _problem_ at first. It was nice. He had a routine with his wife, which made her happy; he had something entertaining and informative to watch, and he got to think about bombing the shit out of Europe during boring meetings, which was great. Europe was just a little too smug and could stand to be taken down a peg or two.

So maybe saying it was Kitty's _fault_ is a bit of an exaggeration. She provided the material, but not the problem.

Okay, then, it was all Kevin's fault.

One day they were leaving a press conference at which Robert had had to tell the press that of course he was going to bend over and grab his ankles for Rahm Emanuel, because Rahm spoke for Obama and he supported the President (and god _damn_ it, why did the Republican Party have to be so incompetent on the national level, if they'd just nominated _him_ none of this would have been happening), which generally put him in the mood to bomb the shit out of Europe, among other things.

He threw his folder of notes at Kevin as they walked to the car. "Well, that was crap," he said. "I'd appreciate it if next time we do a press conference, my prep could be _less_ shitty, please."

Kevin stopped in his tracks and gave Robert a death glare, then a slow mock salute. "Yes _sir_," he snapped, and stalked off to his own car.

And that should've been the end of it, a spat with his communications director that never crossed his mind again.

Except Kevin was a crack shot. Which he never would have expected (and he _hated_ being surprised by his staff), but couldn't get out of his head now that he knew.

The three things just kind of...ran into each other in his head, that was all. A kind of perfect storm of elements that fit together way too well for anything resembling comfort.  
**  
_"Sir." The young soldier at the door saluted and Robert nodded, putting him at ease. "Sir, Lieutenant Walker is here."_

"Send him in." Robert sat up a bit straighter at his desk, reaching into the top drawer for his box of cigars.

Walker always looked like he had somewhere better to be, an attitude that had been pissing off superior officers since he got here. But he was the best shot in the company, by a mile, so he was always given a pass for behavior that would've had another man busted down and cleaning out latrines for a week.

He managed a decent salute, though. And he wore a uniform well. "Sit down," Robert said, nodding at the other chair. "Cigar?"

"Am I being taken out to a firing squad?" Walker asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You only get a cigarette for that."

"In that case." Walker took a cigar from the box and waited while Robert cut the end and lit it. "To what do I owe the honor, Major McCallister?"

Robert settled back in his chair and studied him for a moment. "You're the best sniper we've got, Walker, and you know it."

Walker just tilted his head and took a long puff on the cigar, his mouth wrapping around the end in a smirk.

"What we need from you now is--"

"Robert, for God's sake, wake up." An elbow jabbed into his ribs, hard, and Robert gasped as he woke up, almost falling out of the bed.

"Jesus, Kitty," he panted. "What was that for?"

"You were talking in your sleep," she said, squinting at him in puzzled exhaustion. "What is the matter with you? You're talking to my brother in your sleep, now? I think you might be working too hard."

Robert rubbed roughly at his face, trying to gather up the shreds of the dream. Something with...cigars? Soldiers? Kevin?

"I'll be right back," he mumbled, and staggered off down the hall to splash water on his face.

He met his eyes in the mirror and saw nothing but confusion. _What the hell was that?_

"Must have been something I ate," he told himself, and switched out the light.  
**  
_"I'm good, Major." Walker took a long drag on his cigar and blew the smoke out in a slow stream. "But I'm not that good."_

"I think you are." Robert met his eyes steadily, trying to will the lieutenant into agreement. He could always make it an order, but these missions always went better when they were undertaken voluntarily. "I have complete confidence in you."

Walker laughed and shook his head, pointing over Robert's shoulder at the bottle of scotch on the shelf. "I don't suppose that's for sharing?"

"It's a little early in the day."

"We're in a war zone. It's never too early." There was a pause, and Robert raised his eyebrow, giving Walker a cold look until he added, "Sir."

"Let's discuss this mission a little more, first, Lieutenant, before we--"

"Senator, are you even listening?"

Robert jumped, dropping his pen and blinking frantically. His entire senior staff was staring at him, confusion on their faces. Marlene from finance was standing up at the whiteboard, marker in hand pointing at a column of numbers that meant absolutely nothing to him.

Kevin was looking at him with stern disapproval, his lips still parted from the words that had snapped Robert out of his...whatever the hell it was. Daydream. Psychotic break.

"Let's take ten minutes," Robert said, and fled to the bathroom.  
**  
_He knew Walker would eventually agree. No order necessary. The man had a gift, and he couldn't _not_ dedicate it to the service of his company. He was too honorable for that._

"We'll drop you right here," he said, pointing to the spot on the map. The bottle of scotch held down one corner, which curled toward the center when Walker refilled his glass. Day had turned to night while they planned out the mission. "You'll have twelve hours to get in position."

"You think they'll be coming down that road." Walker took a drink, his lips and teeth bright against the edge of the glass where it picked up and focused the dim light.

"We're sure of it."

"And I just...pick them off, one by one." Walker mimed shooting with his free hand, making soft ping_ noises for each imaginary German._

"That's the plan."

"Then I come back and...what, you give me a shiny medal?" Walker smirked at him and took another drink.

"I imagine we'll give you whatever you want, within reason. It would be a huge coup for us."

He laughed and shook his head, giving Robert a skeptical look. His eyes were sharp, that impossible shade of blue, dark and shadowed by what he'd seen in this war. "Whatever I want, Major?"

"Within reason."

"What's within reason?"

Robert jerked upright, gasping, and rubbed frantically at his eyes. "Jesus, Kevin, don't scare me like that."

"How am I supposed to know you're going to be napping in here in the middle of the afternoon? Besides, I could hear you talking all the way through the door. I thought you were on the phone." Kevin frowned at him, smacking the folder he was holding against the palm of his other hand. "Who were you talking to, anyway?"

"I guess I was dreaming." He rubbed his eyes again and looked at Kevin. "Do you have something for me?"

"Yeah, it's notes for your meeting tomorrow." Kevin handed the folder over and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You've been...weird, the last few days."

"I have not." He sounded like a petulant child, and he knew it. "I am never weird."

"Fine. Whatever." Kevin rolled his eyes and started for the door.

"Kevin." When Kevin stopped and looked over his shoulder, Robert hesitated, not sure if he should ask the genuinely stupid question hovering at the front of his sleepy brain. _What the hell._ "Did you ever think about military service?"

Kevin stared at him, eyebrows going up and jaw coming down in that incredulous stare Robert tended to evoke about twice a week or so. "Are you kidding me? I would've been heading for Canada so fast your head would spin, and had Conscientious Objector tattooed on my _face_. God. No."

Robert nodded slightly and tapped the folder against his thigh. "That's what I thought."  
**  
_"I can't believe you did that!"_

Walker shrugged insolently, then winced, reaching up to touch his wounded shoulder gingerly. "I did what had to be done, Major."

"You do not run into a situation like that without backup, Walker. You should have scrapped the mission immediately_, not put yourself in--don't you dare walk away from me, soldier."_

Walker whirled around and pointed at him, voice rising to a shout. "I did what my orders said, Major! I held the ground and I carried out my mission. If you can't see that, then--"

Robert shoved him up against the wall, cutting off the torrent of words. "You listen to me, and you listen good, Walker."

"Get your hands off me."

Robert ignored him, actually gripping tighter, holding him fast against the wall and getting right up in his face, close enough to feel Walker's breath against his own lips. Walker struggled more and Robert used his weight to hold him still, pressing up close against him, able to feel every inch of Walker's body against his own.

"Listen," he panted, staring into Kevin's eyes, "you listen--"

Robert started awake and stared up at the ceiling in blank horror.

"You've got to be fucking _kidding_ me," he said.  
**  
"Robert," Jason said, in the very patient tone he had developed somewhere around age nine, because he was a freak. "I'm a minister, not a therapist."

"Yeah, but you counsel people." Robert scowled at the phone. "You must have had some kind of training to do that."

"Actually, no. There is absolutely no licensing or training required whatsoever. Which worries me sometimes, let me tell you." Jason sighed. "But, okay. You say you're having bad dreams?"

"Disturbing." Robert bit the end off the candy bar in his hand. He was resorting to comfort eating. Great.

"Disturbing moreso than bad."

"I guess."

"That's a very fine line, Bobby."

"Are you going to help me or not?" God, he _hated_ that very patient tone.

"Well, what's disturbing about them? What are you dreaming about that upsets you so much?"

Robert stared at the phone. This had been a terrible idea. "Never mind."

"What?"

"It isn't that bad, forget it, I made a mistake, I'll call you later, goodbye." He hung up quickly and slumped back in his chair, covering his face with his hand.

He was so _fucked_.

He ate the rest of the candy bar, kicked his desk a few times, and called Kevin.  
**  
Kevin looked at him funny when he opened the door, but Robert was used to that.

"Okay, I'm here," Kevin said, stepping into the house and looking around. "Now what do you want that was so important you called me on a Saturday?"

"Oh, what, like you were doing anything?" Robert rolled his eyes and stepped around Kevin, heading for the den.

"I could have been. Shut up." Kevin fell into step behind him. "And why are there three bags of Snickers bars on the side table?"

"Kitty. Pregnancy cravings."

"Kitty's not pregnant."

Robert ignored him and pointed at the couch. "Sit."

"Okay, I'm not a golden retriever, I don't have to..." He was already halfway to seated, and realized it, face flushing red. "You could at least say please, you know."

"Yeah, yeah." Robert hurried over to the DVD player.

"Wait, you invited me over to watch a movie?"

"Miniseries." He put disc 1 in the player and cued up the sound system. "Get comfortable. You can take off your shoes if you want."

"Robert, what the _hell_?"

"Look, it's..." Robert hit play and walked over to the armchair, sitting down and giving Kevin his best intense, serious, you-can-trust-me-I'm-a-Republican look. "I just need you to watch this with me, okay?"

Kevin was looking at him like he was completely insane. "You _need_ me to watch...oh, _Band of Brothers_."

"Yes."

"This is a good show." Kevin nodded, toeing his shoes off absently. "The guys are _really_ hot."

Robert sighed with relief. "Yes. Good. Keep...saying things like that." This would get the problem out of his system in no time.

"And they really showed a commitment to detail. You know that any weapon actually fired in this is an original, modified to shoot blanks? On the one hand, that's great, that they had that commitment, but on the other hand, why would you mess up those beautiful old guns? It's so wrong."

Robert closed his eyes tightly. Damn it.

He'd made a huge mistake.


End file.
